


Jumping, Falling, and Topics of Similar Gravity

by thinkatory



Series: Foxholes [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers Family, Bisexuality, Brainwashing, Friendship, M/M, Memory Loss, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Tony Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1446889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkatory/pseuds/thinkatory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein the Avengers and SHIELD are at war with an asshole "god" hoping to find a nonexistent throne, and they thaw themselves out a new recruit; or, How Tony met Bucky. <i>There is suddenly the obvious sound of an explosion further out in the base. Barnes jerks up to attention and Tony swears so vividly he’s not even sure what he said exactly, but he looks at Barnes. “You’re an expert marksman,” he says, as he puts the second Mark VII bracelet on. “You want a gun? Let’s get you a gun.”</i></p><p> <i>Barnes pauses markedly. “Are you sure?”</i></p><p> <i>“At this point it’s probably fifty-fifty that you’ll kill us or someone else will,” Tony says, “and besides, I can always shut your arm off if I want to.” He taps his Bluetooth, which probably means nothing to Barnes, but oh well. “Armory’s down the hall and to the right if you haven’t gone snooping, which I always do, personally.”</i></p><p> <i>“You talk a lot,” Barnes says, and goes for the door.<i></i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Jumping, Falling, and Topics of Similar Gravity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LePeru (Nizah)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nizah/gifts).



> WELL. About this fic. This... this got really involved on me, LePeru, if you can't tell. Also, at least 3k of this is Tony not being able to shut up. But I loved the prompt from the moment I saw it and had to write it.
> 
> I haven't really adopted any post-Avengers canon besides the obvious Bucky spoilers and a snippet of characterization or two from Winter Soldier, because it's generally not really applicable to this story. AU from the end of Avengers: Selvig didn't build the failsafe into the tesseract portal, and I went from there. Tweaked some things and added others to make this work better. I hope you enjoy what I've done with it! 
> 
> AND SO THE STAGE IS SET, on to the story!

So, when Tony thinks about it, the kind of real possibility of the end of the world or whatever is all on SHIELD, really.

Let’s be clear, though. _It is not actually the end of the world._ (At least, not yet.) The end of the world means, you know, the end of the world as we know it (like REM said), and right now the world is pretty much as we know it -- either Starbucks and fast food and completely terrible TV, or, you know, not living in America -- except with some aliens and Norse gods running around killing people occasionally, but not as many people as you’d think aliens and Norse gods would kill. For some people, aliens mean the end of the world as they know it, but those people are pretty short-sighted, considering.

After all, the way more worrying thing is the part where the aliens much more powerful than that son of a bitch Loki have the tesseract and can pretty much do anything they fucking want all over the damn universe. But Thor’s buddies are on the job, and the big immortal Ken doll himself is on the job of tracking down his asshole brother (along with Rhodey and almost everyone else, not Tony for some fucking reason) so there’s… some hope!

At least, on Earth, things are cool, generally. There is some hope for this world not ending anytime soon. Some. Really, a lot of hope, actually, thanks to the Avengers, and because Loki is Loki and that means for someone who’s famed as being this clever trickster god he’s actually turned out to be kind of an idiot.

Back to the point: it’s all SHIELD’s fault. It goes back to the Ancient Immutable Rules of Jinx.

Who names a group of people _The Avengers_ (™, obviously) if they’re not going to have anything to avenge? How about The Defenders or something? It’s much less catchy, but at least it implies you’re going to win the battle, if not the war.

Nick Fury doesn’t think this is all that ironic, but hell if Tony cares about what Nick Fury thinks about any of his opinions or snarky remarks. Fury might be a total badass but he’s still holed up in their base in the mountains of Switzerland running logistics and all that boring shit while Tony and the rest of them do all the legwork, so his opinions (okay, and everyone else with superpowers and suits and shit, people who have action figures made of them) are the ones that really matter.

The people with action figures made of them actually matter so much that their living or existing in populated areas inevitably means collateral damage. So, the Alps. The barren steppe. You name it, if it doesn’t have a McDonald’s in a small plane flight’s distance, it’s a price location.

In this base, on down-time, they mostly hang out in a room that Tony has dubbed “the Green Room,” which Natasha says is a real improvement on the Red Room, an in-joke only Barton laughs at. “I’m still not over ‘we’re in a cave,’” Tony says to Bruce, conversationally, as he tweaks the newest suit design.

“What about ‘laying down on a couch with my eyes closed’ says to you anything but ‘nap’?” Bruce asks, without missing a beat.

“I’m lulling you to sleep. With my dulcet tones, which happen to be conveying complaints.”

“I’ve been in worse bases,” Clint says, casually restringing a bow.

“We’re going to have to move eventually. It’s really kind of blindingly obvious this time,” Tony points out. “I have no problem finding the Batcave even without JARVIS’s help because it might as well have ‘Not a Secret Hideout’ with a neon arrow pointing at it.”

“We have SHIELD’s best camouflage technology,” Clint reminds him, glancing up briefly. “No way anyone but a SHIELD agent can find us.”

“SHIELD’s shields,” Bruce notes wryly, and snorts in amusement.

“And Loki’s still out there with the Double-Agent Taser,” Tony says, then makes a sympathetic face when Clint doesn’t react well to that. “Sorry! But true. It’s happened to us before. Remember Minsk?”

“I do remember Minsk,” Clint says, more guarded now. “But that’s why we keep our location need-to-know, and most of SHIELD doesn’t need to know.”

“Most,” Bruce says. He hasn’t even opened his eyes for a second as far as Tony can tell. Some nap, though. “That’s comforting.”

“He’s got a point,” Tony said, cheerfully. “All he needs to do is work his way up the ladder until he finds someone who knows something.”

“You just described all intelligence work, ever,” Natasha says dryly, taking a clip out of her gun as she enters the compound.

“I don’t know that what Loki’s doing can accurately be called ‘intelligence,’” Clint says. “It’s more like…”

“Megalomania?” Bruce chimes in.

“Hunting. Hunting us,” Natasha says, in her curt tone that Tony now intimately knows as one primarily of concern. (You learn a lot than you ever want to know about people when you’re stuck in close quarters with them for six months.) “Also megalomania,” she allows.

“What did you find out?” Clint asks her, his focus closing in on her.

“No intel,” Natasha says, but she looks wary. “Nothing on Loki’s whereabouts specifically, but we don’t think he’s left the Balkans; the same human forces are still occupying the area, and the Chitauri there have to be his coterie, there aren’t enough left otherwise.” She pauses, and adds, “We found someone.”

It’s almost a throwaway sentence, so vague he wants to ignore it, except for how much foreboding she packs into it. It changes the atmosphere in the room; Tony straightens, Bruce is sitting up and paying attention, now, his glasses on. “Where’s Cap?” he asks, slowly.

“He’s with…” Natasha hesitates. “He wants Stark there. And backup. We’re going to be transporting -- ”

“Transporting a random mystery person, thanks for shedding light on that, Agent Romanoff,” Tony says dryly. “Do they have Cryptic Message Delivery courses at SHIELD University?”

“No,” Clint answers, watching Natasha’s expression raptly. “Did they find… _him_?”

“Yes,” Natasha says, immediately, her face impassive, and looks back to Bruce and Tony. “Have you ever heard of James Barnes?”

  
\--

  
Tony thinks there’ll be a good hour or so of driving, so they can chat about the Good Ol’ Days of Pre-SHIELD SHIELD who fought Nazis suffering from truly awful roseacea or something, and all the rumors and stories they’ve heard. But as it turns out it’s about a twenty minute trip, so Tony doesn’t even get a chance to tell the stories his brilliant asshole of a father shared about Cap and his best friend Bucky and how from the day they were reunited until the day Bucky supposedly died they were basically inseparable.

Tony’s cut off mid-sentence when Natasha stops the truck at a gate. He takes a closer look, and the presence of human beings and lack of incredibly daunting crevasses is encouraging, but it still looks like they are absolutely in the middle of nowhere.

They pull into the town, if you could call it that. “I’m still not clear on why I’m here,” Tony says, eyeing the building they’re approaching; it’s either a prison or a hospital. He’s not sure which he’d prefer it to be.

“Because you’re transporting Barnes’s body,” Natasha says, blase as hell again.

“I am?” Tony asks blankly. _His body._ That’s sobering. Like they need any more bodies. “I… am. Why am I doing it? Wait, where will you go? Am I Loki bait? Please tell me if I’m going to be Loki bait.”

“Cap won’t go without him,” Natasha says, tone casually sharp. “And he’s not going to be driving. I have things to acquire.”

“Spy stuff. Gotcha,” Tony says, and affixes his second Mark VII bracelet onto his other wrist, just in case. “Cool. Dead bodies. It’ll be a blast. Iron Pallbearer.”

It’s a hospital. Not a particularly great one, or one where Tony would ever go voluntarily, but he’s a snob about the whole health thing what with the arc reactor, and also lives in New York City. They go up to the third floor; in a bare room with only one occupied bed, Steve is sitting absolutely still next to someone who is unmistakably Bucky Barnes, holy shit.

The weirdest thing is he doesn’t look dead. His dad had looked dead; his mom hadn’t, so maybe it’s a case to case basis. Maybe they’re just waiting for Cap to let them cart Barnes away. While they’re waiting for Cap to acknowledge them, as well as giving him some space, he notices that apparently Barnes has a metal arm, and he can’t help moving closer to check it out.

When Steve looks up, he’s obviously wrecked. Tony doesn’t really want to be part of this, admittedly doesn’t think he has a choice, but he sure as hell isn’t going to be the one who speaks first.

“He was frozen,” Steve breaks the silence with, slightly defensive. “But he’s dead.”

“He hasn’t decomposed,” Natasha tells him slowly, moving closer. “They brought him here.”

Oh. Tony frowns as Steve moves defensively between her and Barnes, insisting, “It’s a formality. He’s dead.”

Yeah. Uh. Now that he’s gotten a look, Tony chimes in. “Look, he went flying off of whatever in nineteen-forty-kicked Hitler’s ass, bio’s not my field but decomp should be way more advanced than that unless he’s Encino Man.”

Natasha hesitates, when Steve turns his back on them. “Captain Rogers,” she tries next, and Steve exhales. “You survived.”

“I’m me,” Steve says, fierce and cold.

“Hey. Uh. Idea. You know it says in the SHIELD files that Hydra was trying to replicate the supersoldier serum,” Tony speaks up. “What if he’s… you know, like...”

“Either way,” Steve says, finally turning back to face them with an unreadably stoic expression, “we’re taking him with us. You ready, Stark?”

He snaps to attention. “You got it,” he confirms. “Mission Weekend at Bernie’s is go.”

Steve originally moves to stand, but hesitates, and reaches for Barnes’s stiff and pale hand. He drops it an instant later, with a look of sharp regret on his face, and Tony glances away from him before they can even possibly have A Moment.

“I’ll talk to the nurse,” Natasha says, and leaves them alone.

Tony just looks at Barnes, who hasn’t aged a damn day, apparently.

“Thank you,” Steve says, not looking at him.

“Not many people get to say they’ve had Tony Stark as a cabbie,” he says, comfortably deflecting. “It’s not a problem. What else am I doing today?”

“I know you wanted to go with Rhodes. Earlier this week.”

“Yeah, well,” Tony says, “obviously I’m here for a reason.”

  


\--

  
Right now -- as Tony’s driving in relative silence with Captain America, who might have just started to grudgingly like him, and the designated sidekick Bucky Barnes propped up in the backseat -- it would be a good time to note Tony Stark’s thoughts about the Howling Commandos, particularly their fearless leader, and how _incredibly fucking weird this whole thing is_ for him.

Here’s the thing. He’s not a fanboy like Coulson was. He didn’t sit there and watch every old newsreel or collect cards. He heard the stories from his father, and, whatever you want to say about Howard Stark (all of which is probably semi-true and/or merited), the man could tell stories as well as he designed and invented new tech, that charismatic son of a bitch.

From a young age, Tony knew about Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. He idolized them, but only in his head, because giving his father the satisfaction of his influence apparently taking hold on him would be too much. He idolized them the same way he idolized Jimmy Stewart or Rick from Casablanca. They were action, they were adventure, but they also, most definitely, had a tragic and romantic story. Everyone knew, Tony figures, that the basic thing that makes people happy, most themselves, and do stupid, dangerous things that end the whole thing tragically half the time anyway, is love.

This kernel of possible truth has generally made him feel a hell of a lot better about the occasional gay impulse or more over the years, because even Patriotic Badasses from Legend could go both ways or something. Meeting Steve shattered some of the illusion, admittedly, but this has reminded him all over again.

Obviously this is weird as hell. Steve is over there stoically devastated and incredibly emotionally confused based on Tony’s admittedly terrible emotional compass, and he’s the guy who’s been drawing mental hearts around pictures of these two for years.

No one can ever know. _No one_. Jesus Christ.

“You and Rhodes,” Steve says, after they’ve been driving for ten minutes. “You known each other long?”

“Years,” Tony confirms, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “He’s a good guy. A good soldier. Not gonna lie, I wouldn’t give a suit to anyone else. Well, maybe Romanov, because she could break my neck with her thighs, but like she needs it.”

“I was going to go with them. With Rhodes.”

Tony doesn’t look over at him, because this is definitely a Moment and he doesn’t want to have Moments, dammit. “Why?”

“Because I don’t like sitting idle. Spying and waiting.”

“Well, now you won’t have to,” Tony says. “Sit idle, I mean. You’ve got something to do.”

Steve looks at him, so directly that he can’t not spare him a glance. “What?” he asks.

Tony jerks his head in a gesture to the backseat. “That guy. Needs your help, probably.”

Steve balks. “I’m still not sure that -- ”

“I wouldn’t believe it either,” he interrupts him. “But you managed, I managed, Banner managed. Who says he won’t?”

He looks down, then he shrugs, and leans back in the car seat. “Yeah,” he agrees, and they both fall silent again.

When he looks at the rearview mirror, he sees Barnes there, pale as death but hopefully no closer than any of them have been in the past ten years.

Not like he believes in God, but if there’s enough celestial interest in keeping an asshole like him alive, there’s probably room for one more miracle for Barnes.

 

\--

 

A middle-aged guy with a terrible bald spot and some sort of monocle on is particularly aghast when Tony puts Barnes down on a cot in the Science division’s part of the base. “What? Look at that, what are you bloody doing? You’re lucky this didn’t fry your tech!”

“It’s not a that, Larry, it’s a person,” a woman in her fifties says wearily, on her feet to examine the new arrival.

Tony pauses, then looks at the metal arm. “That thing? No, I’m good. I mean, this thing only reacts to microwaves,” he says, tapping the arc reactor.

“Oh, my precious darling,” Larry coos at the arm. “Where did you come from?”

“Well, he didn’t get that in the 1940s, and if he did I feel incredibly robbed of my jetpack and hover-skateboard,” Tony says to JARVIS, taking a closer look at Barnes's arm now that he has a chance. “Hey -- any of you cybernetics experts? Otherwise I can rewire that thing.”

“God, you’re as bad as him. We have to save his life first,” the testy lady doctor says.

“We’ll remove the arm if we can and you and I can work on it,” Larry says, astoundingly cheery for someone working on an apparently dead guy. “For now I have to extract it!”

“Don’t sound so happy about it,” the doctor says, and looks up at him. “Well? We have to move him, we’ll ask for your help later if we need it.”

It strikes him, then, what he’s been missing this entire conversation like some kind of idiot, and he makes himself say it out loud just to verify. “...So he’s alive? I mean, mostly dead but...” he asks slowly.

“If you let us do our work, respectfully, Mr. Stark, yes, he’ll be properly alive eventually,” the doctor says just as slowly. “Excuse us. Larry!”

“Right. Cora, you can be a right drag,” Larry says, and flashes an excited grin at Tony before helping the doc move Barnes from the cot to the gurney. “Why I never thought I’d get my hands on interesting cybernetic implants in _Switzerland_ , out in a field mission like this -- ”

Tony decides that’s his cue to go back and pretend that things are totally awesome and normal. Because he’s feeling particularly helpful today, he has DUM-E and the others try to make dinner for the other Avengers on their way back. It turns out that with the right poking and prodding they can manage to put together a decent pasta and meatballs, even if they have to clean up after themselves later.

It probably would have been easier to do it himself, but he promised Pepper his first cooking efforts would be for her, and also, whatever. He’s having fun where he can get it.

“Why is there pasta sauce on your robot?” is the first sentence out of Bruce’s mouth when they come back to the Green Room while Tony is ushering the three robots out.

“Oh, yeah. This?” Tony asks, and turns around to gesture in a flourish to the short table, all set with the standard mess hall plates of SHIELD. “This is what happens when geniuses get bored.”

“Robot-made food,” Natasha notes with amusement.

“Most of your food is robot pre-made, at least this time it’s fresh from the robot,” Tony says.

Natasha glances back at Clint, whose mouth is threatening to twitch up, just slightly, and she shakes her head. Tony grins. “C’mon. Where’s Stars and Stripes?”

“Talking to Fury,” Natasha says, glancing away. “We’ll have to save him some so he can experience this display of domesticity himself.”

“I think we’ve been here too long,” Bruce says to Natasha, by way of agreement. “He’s nesting.”

“Dinner,” Tony insists; Clint might as well be grinning. “Dinner. Come on.”

They’re mostly settled and Tony has already eaten an unfortunately crumbly but relatively delicious meatball when Steve enters the room, all dark and disturbed and not bothering to hide it.

“Hey,” Bruce tries, as Steve sits down, then half-smiles when Steve looks at his plate in surprise. “Tony and the robots made it.”

Steve looks up at Tony, then, and he tries on a vague smile. “Thank you,” Steve says, not even begrudgingly.

“No problem,” Tony says, not too flippant, but not too sentimental, either. “Apparently a med-tech here is really into cybernetics, so you might miss me doing more nesting if I can help out on Barnes’s arm.”

Steve pauses visibly with his fork in hand. “He’s… they’re sure he’s -- ”

“Yeah,” Tony says, and he thinks again of Rhodey, wherever he is. He thinks of the way he can’t let himself even begin to think of how dangerous the Loki hunt has to be, the plain imaginary audio-visual torture masterpiece that is Rhodey’s suit fucking exploding every night in his sleep, and that this is all for a reason, even if it all goes wrong. He smiles, sadly, and Steve’s face changes, just slightly, in recognition. “You know how it is, Captain. Never say never.”

There’s one of those Moments again, but then Fury’s calling out to them from the hallway. Bruce and Tony make faces at each other. “I hope you saved me some,” Fury says, and strides into the mess hall, plainly addressing all the collected superheroes. “We have to talk.”

“Serve yourself. DUM-E can’t handle a pasta ladle thing,” Tony says flippantly. “Learned that the hard way. Didn’t we agree that the mess was a strategy-free zone?”

“No such thing,” Steve says.

“Traitor,” Tony says dryly, pointing with his fork. “Snitch. Narc.”

“We haven’t heard from the Warriors Three in ten days. Thor is trying to draw Loki out. Things are probably going to get hot. You’d better be ready,” Fury tells them, and scans their faces. “Barton, Romanov. At least one of you has to go escort Jane Foster here, Thor says he gave her some sort of communication tech that could maybe reach the other Asgardians. It’ll be a hell of a lot easier for us to shut down Loki if he doesn’t have access to the tesseract.”

“There’s no evidence that the tesseract weapons won’t still be powered when the source is in Asgard’s hands,” Bruce speaks up.

“It’s a gamble we’re going to have to take,” Fury says, in his grim pragmatic way.

“Yes sir,” Natasha answers, toying with a meatball. “Have we had contact with the safehouse?” She doesn’t look over at Tony, but he immediately knows that she knows the way his stomach drops.

“We have,” Fury says, with plain finality on the subject. “Foster’s out of there.”

“Bet Thor loves that,” Bruce says.

Fury shrugs, glancing away. “She’s on the ground. This is a war, no damsels in distress here.”

“And Pepper?” Tony asks, as neutrally as he can, no matter how telling it is. “Have you let her go yet?”

Fury sighs. “We’ll let her return to your ‘undisclosed location’ when the threat to her life is deemed to be of negligible concern. For now, you and Banner are going to trace Chitauri tech, and see if -- ”

“Yeah. We know. Do our magic. The usual.” Tony pushes his plate away. “Anyone want a drink?”

No one listens. Fury is serious, and everyone’s caught up arguing with him or taking orders, except for Tony. Rhodey’s off hunting. Pepper’s somewhere. More than ever he’s starting to feel like DUM-E. A tool, in the not colloquial way. There’s nothing to distract him, nothing all that interesting, anyway. Finding the Chitauri is a puzzle, but he and Bruce are way too smart to for that to take more than a day.

Then he remembers the arm.

 

\--

 

The next week is exclusively devoted to what could charitably be called debate on the merits of moving their base, and the danger that moving could potentially pose to Barnes, who’s still recovering (or something). Eventually, the scientists lose, because SHIELD’s agents in the area can still bring the equipment necessary to sustain Barnes’s recovery, and his recovery will be pretty much a moot point if Loki storms their freaking HQ.

Tony has no clue what to do in the interim besides unwillingly pack things up like a normal person and start working with Awkward British Larry on Barnes’s really weirdly-designed severed cybernetic arm. Awkward British Larry’s a decent guy -- he’s definitely met worse company while in the semi-employ of SHIELD -- but he talks a lot about basically nothing and it’s starting to get on his nerves.

“It might be a monocle but it’s more comfortable than you’d think,” Larry’s saying, while Tony can’t interject because he’s biting down on the handle of a small screwdriver for later, but currently the middle of the process of moving wiring out of the way with tweezers to get at the circuit board. “And it’s far better than anything like _Google Glass_ , quite an improvement on the model actually, it’s more important to be able to identify tech, live or not, than to look up the lyrics to a Kinks song… well, at any rate, I’m rather proud, would you be interested in a sample lens? Well, I suppose now isn’t the time  -- ”

“Mngh,” Tony says, past the screwdriver, and gestures with his head for Larry to hold the wires in place. Once those are secured he takes out the screwdriver, places necessary chips on the board, and screws everything in. Then he shuts the new casing and appraises the arm.

“This is the problem with cybernetics,” he says to Larry. “You can’t test them until they’re attached to a freaking person. Or you can, but it’s a pain in the ass. Do we know when Barnes is going to wake up?” _If he’s going to wake up?_ “Because if I have at least a week, a decent lab, and better wifi, I can do a test run.”

“Oh, Captain Rogers didn’t tell you?” Larry asks, surprised. “We think it’ll be a week at most. Possibly days.”

This is brand new information. Like, actually. Tony looks up from his appraisal of the neurotech wiring on the shoulder part of the arm. “So I take it he hasn’t been frozen for forty years or something.”

“Oh, around fifty years frozen, certainly,” Larry says, shrugging. “But he’s been thawing, after all, at the hospital, and all the rest. He’ll fare much better under our care, obviously, but they helped as best they could, of course.”

“All right then,” Tony agrees, and gets back to it. “Can’t believe they had this stuff back in my dad’s day and he never told me. Can you take a look at this? This doesn’t look right to me but then I’m not into the prosthetic limb field.”

“Oh, no,” Larry says, offhandedly considering the biodegradable connections. “This is alien tech, can’t you tell? I’ve been reverse-engineering it for the last two days. It’ll be fine, I think,” he concludes.

Tony pauses. “So… Barnes was taken by aliens?” he asks slowly.

“No, it’s clear the Russians found alien tech and decided to put it on Barnes’s arm.”

“The Russians?” This is not approaching clear. “JARVIS,” he says offhand into the Bluetooth on his ear, “is there something about aliens and Russia I don’t know about? Maybe in the SHIELD database?”

“Processing, sir. Is there any reason you’re asking me instead of SHIELD?” JARVIS asks.

“Because SHIELD wouldn’t tell me the lineup of the New York Giants in 1978 if my life depended on it, nonetheless ‘intel’ or whatever they call it,” Tony points out.

“I’ll tell you,” Larry says, surprised.

Oh. Okay. “All right, uh, Russia, aliens, Russian aliens, go?”

Larry packs the arm away, and talks as he goes. “They lost the tech near the end of the 1950s. It was stolen, no one’s certain by whom, and I don’t suppose it’s terribly relevant to anyone beyond the medical application, is it? But we knew they had this technology for as long as they had it, and apparently they chose it to use on Mr. Barnes! Lucky fellow.”

“He lost an arm and was captured by the Russians,” Tony says after a second, recapping it for himself. “I don’t know if I’d call that lucky but it’s helpful information. Are you keeping him strapped down, by any chance? Just in case?”

“Strapped down how?” Larry asks, blankly, but then the question catches up to him. “Oh, yes. Generally.”

“Well, that’s much more comforting,” Tony has to admit.

“Cora says he's likely brainwashed, but we won't know until he's awake," Larry says helpfully, by way of agreement. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Tony says, and crosses his arms. “Uh, I think we’re good. I mean, this should work. Do we want to wait until we know if he’s brainwashed to turn him into the Six Million Dollar Man? We should probably wait.”

“Sir, Director Fury is asking after you,” JARVIS says into his ear. “Thor and Colonel Rhodes have brought an update on the search for Loki.”

Tony cheers up, a lot. _Rhodey!_ Then he remembers Larry’s there. “Good work. Enjoy your, uh, arms race. I have to go talk to a guy about a horse’s ass.”

 

\--

 

They move the base within one day, which is totally insane, but no one joins SHIELD out of laziness. It’s pretty much a given that Barnes is going to wake up on their way there, just because that’s how these things happen, or at least when Tony tells them that, they don’t argue all that much.

 _Good luck, Tony,_ Rhodey had said, in the split second they had had to talk. _I’ll see you in a week._ At this point, it’s the only thing keeping Tony going. He might be a pain in the ass stick in the mud sometimes, but Rhodey and Pepper are the last things that remind him of the good things before Iron Man.

One week and he might feel like Tony Stark again. Awesome.

They’re planning a rendezvous with Thor and the others, and who’s going to go with the recon planes, when they hear shouting and a commotion from inside the base. Steve’s the first one up and out with his shield. Tony watches him go, then realizes he’s somewhat obligated to go, what with being one of the tech guys. Alas for genius. He goes.

“Bucky. _Bucky_. It’s me,” Steve is calling after Barnes, who is in the corner of the med bay wielding a scalpel at everyone while shielding what remains of his severed arm. “It’s... it's Steve, Buck, look at me.”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Barnes demands, and wildly scans the rest of the faces in the room; Tony realizes, unpleasantly, that this is a potential supersoldier with amnesia who's terrified for his life. Fantastic. Barnes's voice rises. “Who are _you_? _Where the hell am I?_ ”

“I guess the standard amnesia questions don’t apply here,” Tony remarks, to no one in particular. Black and white pictures never captured how blue the guy's eyes are, but they're weirdly clouded. _Shut up, there's nothing you can do._ He talks before he thinks, then. “Hey, kid. Who’s your baseball team?”

Steve looks his way in disbelief, but Barnes says, “Dodgers” without missing a beat.

Tony shrugs at Steve and goes on, ignoring how Barnes seems to be shaking and retreating into his own skull. “Where are you from?”

Barnes starts to talk, but stops dead, and Steve approaches him, obviously feigning a casual tone. “We would double-date -- if you could call it that -- at ball games, except you’d take your girl for a whirl after the seventh inning, and ask me to try and catch a foul ball without breaking my arm.”

Barnes stands as still as a person can possibly do without being dead, until he lowers the scalpel, and his jaw tightens. Tony speaks. “You want your arm back?” He looks down at where his arm used to be, then Tony goes on. “We can do that. If you promise not to try to kill us.”

“Sit down,” Dr. Cora suggests, and looks to Steve. “Join us? We’ll… see what we can do to help Mr. Barnes.”

Barnes looks paler than ever, as he looks at Steve and Steve looks back at him. “I know you,” he tells him, slowly, uncertain, and Captain America looks like for once he could be knocked down by anything lighter than a sledgehammer.

“I know you too,” Steve says finally, and clears his throat. “It… give me the -- ”

Barnes looks down at the scalpel, and pauses, apparently struggling with himself, before handing it to Steve.

Tony tries to remember how to not give a shit, because this is really something, hell. Then he has it again, thank God. “Tell me when I can do artificial limb implant things, otherwise I’m going to take a nap,” he says, and extricates himself from the way Cap and Barnes change the atmosphere with a single exchanged look, and how Barnes steals glances at Tony like his memory is one grasp away if only he could reach it.

He doesn’t look _that_ much like his dad, does he? That would be disappointing.

  
\--

  
They set up shop at the base in a remote part of Turkey, and everyone is pretty ill at ease with Former Hydra Agent with the Metal Arm Bucky Barnes wandering around with the rest of them, even if Steve is generally with him nonstop. To be fair, Barnes seems to be more good-natured, less confused and likely to kill them all, but "seems" isn’t a guarantee, and it’s still all pretty up in the air about how he managed to survive everything and whether or not he’s a ticking time bomb.

It’s been four days, though, and a bunch of dinners and scouting missions together. In their downtime, since Larry’s done the hard labor on reattaching Bucky’s fancy refurbished Russian alien arm, Tony’s volunteered to do last-minute tweaks and troubleshooting. He’s still not entirely sure that Barnes isn’t going to activate some kind of hidden energy pulse capability, kill him stone-cold dead, and wander off to sell them off to the highest and most powerful bidder, who would inevitably be that smug jerk Loki, going by Murphy’s Law.

His uneasiness might have to do with the way that Barnes isn’t talking, and just watches Tony work. A real human person would probably say something, but then, this guy did just wake up in 2012 and has spent the last few days fighting off Russian brainwashing. Maybe he’s not feeling sociable.

“Feeling more like yourself?” Tony prompts him, focusing on readjusting the battery in relation to the cooling system.

“Not so sure what ‘myself’ means,” Barnes says, and Tony looks up at the guy to find his gaze averted and posture deceptively military-straight. “But I remember things.”

Tony concedes that as a good point with a good-natured shrug. “How the hell did you manage that?” he asks, curiously. “Inkblots? Hypnosis?”

“Steve,” he says, glancing over at Tony. “Some of the stuff that doctor did. Agent Romanov, too. She, uh, she understands.”

“You mind talking about this? Because I’m really curious,” Tony admits. “I don’t get it. The Russians put advanced tech on you and brainwashed you and suddenly you’re in the Swiss Alps Frigidaire, not so easy to put that all together.”

“I don’t remember most of it,” Barnes says, a little less guarded, but still playing it cool. Tony nods, focusing on re-welding some iffy stuff while he’s in there. It’s close quarters, but whatever. “It’s like they played Fifty-Two Card Pickup with my brain. Fwoosh.” He gestures with his other hand. “I remember some stuff about New York and the 107th and Hydra, but it’s like newsreels, little snapshots of it, not the real thing, not yet. And the, the brainwashing is just like… film caught in the reel. Kind of… flapping and a blank screen.”

“You have the soul of a poet,” Tony says dryly, but not unkindly. Much to his surprise, Barnes laughs. “I never figured you for the creative type.”

“Yeah, Steve said you’re the … the kid of that asshole, oh, God,” Barnes realizes what he’s said once it’s out of his mouth, and sighs. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“No, he was definitely an asshole,” Tony confirms. “Even to me. Especially to me. You were saying?”

Barnes rolls his eyes, amused. “You’re Stark’s kid,” he goes on. “So I was really out for…”

“Technically seventy or something but you were found by the Russians pretty soon after your unfortunate fall and, uh.” Tony nods at the arm. “Is what I gleaned, anyway. Otherwise nothing makes sense. Not like any of that makes sense. Did I mention that this arm was originally made by aliens from outer space?”

There’s silence after that, and Tony closes and fastens the casing on the arm, not really wanting to look up at him but feeling somewhat obligated. Barnes is looking at his boots. “That fits,” he says. “The… not the alien parts. Just, I remember falling, and I remember jumping. I must have done both.”

Well, this is… something. He’s sitting with one of the Howling Commandos and sharing war stories, but he’s too sober to do this sort of touchy-feely bullshit with anything approaching a human connection. “It happens,” he says, sympathetically. “I sort of jumped recently.”

“Were you trying to escape the Russians too?” Barnes cracks.

Tony laughs, leaning back on his chair. “The Russians wish they had firepower like the last army we faced. We almost won, you know.”

“Steve told me,” Barnes says; already his face looks less haggard, more lively, for having conversation today, and possibly even for having a more consistently working arm, if the finger movements and wrist movements he’s trying out are any indication. “Won the battle but haven’t really won the war, I guess.”

“Nearly there. Loki’s not half as good as he thinks he is, and he’s basically trapped here. He’s toast,” Tony concludes, and smiles as he tries out some hand signals with the new hand. “You ever umpire?”

“Not in seventy years,” Barnes says dryly, and eyes him; damn, that look is piercing, how do people do that? “Is it better out there? Than it was?”

“I don’t know, you’d have to ask Cap,” Tony says honestly. “Can’t say I remember the golden days, no matter how old I look. But generally times are always partially shitty and partially great and that kind of boils down to people, doesn’t it?”

“Not just people anymore from what you guys have told me,” Barnes says. Tony concedes this with a nod. “If he’s Hydra -- or like Hydra -- he needs to be stopped.”

“Ehh.” Tony gestures broadly. “Hydra had all those semi-Nazis. This guy is practically invincible on his good days but he’s only got a limited amount of men, he’s basically the mouse in our cat-and-mouse.”

Barnes nods, but says, slowly, “Then why haven’t you caught him?”

“We’re Tom. He’s Jerry,” Tony explains, and sighs at the uncomprehending look on Barnes’s face. Now there are two of them, three if you count Thor. “He’s a really smart mouse. With a lot of tricks up his sleeve."

Barnes pauses. “Ever thought about just descending on him?” he asks.

“See, now you sound like Steve,” Tony says, amused. “We would if we knew for sure where he was and that it wasn’t all a trap.”

“A mouse that sets traps,” Bucky deadpans. “Are you sure he’s not the cat?”

“He’s going to have a hell of a time leaving Earth and we’ll fight him every step of the ‘take me to your leader so I can shove a spear through his chest’ terrible plan he’s operating on.” Tony shrugs. “You’ll get it if you have the misfortune of meeting the guy.”

There is suddenly the obvious sound of an explosion further out in the base. Barnes jerks up to attention and Tony swears so vividly he’s not even sure what he said exactly, but he looks at Barnes. “You’re an expert marksman,” he says, as he puts the second Mark VII bracelet on. “You want a gun? Let’s get you a gun.”

Barnes pauses markedly. “Are you sure?”

“At this point it’s probably fifty-fifty that you’ll kill us or someone else will,” Tony says, “and besides, I can always shut your arm off if I want to.” He taps his Bluetooth, which probably means nothing to Barnes, but oh well. “Armory’s down the hall and to the right if you haven’t gone snooping, which I always do, personally.”

“You talk a lot,” Barnes says, and goes for the door.

“Oh, yeah,” Tony says, casually. “You mind keeping that open?”

“...Sure,” Barnes agrees, and opens the door just as Tony calls the Mark VII, narrowly avoiding getting a few parts of the helmet to the side of his head.

Tony goes past him, accumulating armor as he goes. “Go, go,” he tells Barnes, who lingers only for a moment in amazement at the technological marvel that Tony has frankly started to take for granted. He nabs the faceplate and goes.

 

\--

 

Here’s the thing: Bucky Barnes’s shooting skills have not been overestimated. The guy could probably kill a fly from five hundred feet away without breaking a sweat. Tony is of course kicking ass and taking names like a crime-fighting census taker, so he’s a little too busy to notice except for when JARVIS notes that bullets from their side are coming perilously close to him and happening to kill some of Loki’s remaining Chitauri.

He lets JARVIS plot the trajectory but he already knows who it is.

Steve throws his shield at Loki because the bastard’s trying to kill some SHIELD agent Tony can’t see, but of course it’s not the real Loki. Tony is getting really sick of this magic hologram bullshit, he notes mentally, after he kills another Chitauri soldier. The real Loki is suddenly behind Steve, though, and Tony shouts, “Hey, Cap!”

It’s enough warning to Steve as well as surprise enough to Loki, who raises the scepter towards some of the important equipment and holy shit there’s a generator there too, fuck, that wouldn't be good at all. But there’s one gunshot, and two, so sudden and close to Loki's grip on the scepter it gives him pause. That’s when Clint fires an arrow at Loki, who deflects it, and the Hulk throws the remaining Chitauri out of the door (literally) while Loki’s brainwashed humans almost uniformly retreat, at least for now.

All good stuff. For now, he reminds himself. “Come in, stay a while,” Tony says to Loki, stepping forward in challenge.

“What is it I’ve heard your sort say? ‘Make me’?” Loki asks, and without missing a beat slashes through Natasha’s body armor with the scepter when she dares approach. “I’m going to kill you all. Slowly,” he pronounces. “Especially that one.” He points at the Hulk with his scepter.

“You’re surrounded,” Natasha says flatly; Tony's jaw sets when he sees the deep wound on her arm, bleeding, though she apparently doesn't notice it.

“By _children_ ,” Loki says, bemused. “Are you really so egotistical to think you can -- ”

Yeah, that's enough of that. “Hey, any time now,” Tony says, annoyed, raising his eyes to the nearest camera. “Any time now! Really? Is no one up there? Are you on a coffee break?”

“Sir, I believe Director Fury is 'working on it',” JARVIS says delicately.

“As we were saying,” Steve says, just barely nods, and the Hulk goes flying at Loki. Clint and Natasha go to the door to keep the troops from getting back inside, whatever Cap suggested, and he and Tony start herding Loki to the eastern side of the building.

“Really?” Tony asks the cameras in indignation, and Loki huffs in amused contempt, sending a bolt of tesseract energy that he can’t avoid; it grazes his suit and cripples the arm.

“Stark,” Fury says in his com. He hates when Fury does that. “Something happened down there. It’s jammed. You’re going to need someone to open it manually. Then we can activate it.”

Tony laughs, more out of irritation than anything else, as he flies up, trying to get Loki from above. “Because none of us are busy -- send more of your people down!”

Fury doesn’t miss a beat. “We need people here for observation.”

“This isn’t about science, and I love science, but right now the Jolly Green Giant’s going to smash through walls if you -- fine, I’ll do it,” Tony finishes, annoyed.

“Nah,” Barnes’s voice comes over the com. “I’ve got it. You might want to get out of the way, Stark."

“What? Do you even know what to -- ” A shot rings out and jars the protective case mounted on the wall where they've been storing the projector. The second shot opens it. “Holy fuck, you could have asked -- "

“It was obvious,” Barnes says, and Tony decides not to argue when Loki appears to be catching on.

“Shit, Fury, any time now,” Tony hisses over the com.

The good news is the projector floods the area around Loki with a Destroyer energy field; the bad news is it catches Tony as well. The field's so dense and hot that Tony is pretty sure both he and the suit are going to die, but it’s only the one arm, he realizes, as he drags himself out in pure self-preservation. The Loki projections have all vanished, and the real thing is holding off the field with only his scepter. He raises the scepter just a few inches and blows the top off of the building to escape in a few jumps.

Thankfully, Fury turns that shit off.

“Well that didn’t go as planned,” Tony says blandly, trying to shake off the shock. “Can we eat now and debrief later, because that was depressing as hell and I need a drink.”

“It was an experimental model,” Fury says, exasperated.

“You should have let _me_ work on it, though,” Tony persists. His head is swimming. His suit is fucked up. Hell. “Barnes, what the hell are you doing on my com?”

“It’s SHIELD communications, I grabbed one in the armory,” Barnes says, blasé as hell. “Steve, you okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Steve says over the com, insanely heartfelt.

Tony decides he’s going to turn off his com and not listen to any more of this. “Hey, Agent Romanov. Mind helping me take this off?” he asks her casually.

“You know I actually know where Pepper is, right?” she asks rhetorically, amused. “I could call her and tell her in a second.”

“She knows you never would let me, though,” Tony answers, happy to banter. “Guess it’s me and my hands again. Bruce! You awake yet? No, of course not,” he finishes, as the Hulk grunts at him from where he’s still trundling around.

Tony heads out, but Steve ducks out ahead of him, back and up to meet Barnes halfway from where he’d perched to snipe. Tony glances up to see Barnes casually climbing down; he raises his eyebrows at Tony, then greets Steve with the same offhand air and an uneasy smile that’s still markedly easier from the day he’d first woken up.

Tony momentarily smiles despite the circumstances, and is grateful that only JARVIS will know and never tell.

  
\--

  
Thor and Rhodey and their entourage and the SHIELD members on base spend half of their time for a day and a half sequestered with maps and intel, and come out of there with a decisive answer. They’ve finally decisively tracked Loki down and are reasonably sure it’s not another trap like Minsk. Now it’s a matter of whether everyone is insane enough to have fun storming the castle.

“Know this,” Thor says loudly, speaking over the overlapping arguments among Avengers and SHIELD agents. “If we pool our efforts, there is no question we’ll succeed in defeating Loki. He knows we will find him and take him. The only question is when. He will do anything to evade capture, so it will take cunning and courage to outwit him, both things we have in droves, do we not?”

“I don’t understand why we weren’t taking this on the road before,” Tony admits. “Thor’s right, teamwork might have helped a lot more than slapping Breakfast Club stereotypes on us and leaving Bruce and me on lab duty. As much as I like lab duty, a good fight is nice, especially if I get to punch Loki.”

“There was some concern on collateral damage and your ability to build further suits if engaged in close combat,” Fury says evenly.

Tony pauses. “Collateral damage, what?”

“They mean me,” Bruce says, with that sad sardonic expression that Tony’s become really familiar with too. “I’m a last resort.”

“You’re in now,” Fury says firmly. “And we’re doing it. Consider yourselves briefed. 0700! Everyone get to sleep early tonight!”

“Oh, fuck that,” Tony mutters, then speaks up, raising his hand, “can we not do this at the ass-crack of dawn?”

“Enjoy the ass-crack of dawn, Stark,” Fury calls back on his way out the door. “Embrace it. Learn to love it." 

“I, uh, think you’ve overextending the metaphor,” Tony retorts, grinning despite himself, but Fury grabs one of his new non-Coulson bffs and wanders off. He shrugs, grabs Rhodey, and turns to catch up with Bruce. “So, we’re all getting plastered,” he says, by way of greeting.

“When we’re going to war at seven in the morning?” Bruce doesn’t seem to be against it, though.

“Have you tasted SHIELD coffee? Has to be an alien recipe. It gives hangovers the Hulk Smash treatment. We’re good. Rogers!” Tony waves him over, and Barnes follows Cap over. “I’m going to find some liquor. You two going to join us?”

“I’m not even sure _I’m_ going to join us,” Bruce feels it relevant to point out.

“Me either,” Rhodey says, “but you’d be surprised how persuasive he is.”

“So I hear,” Barnes says, his eyebrows raised.

“As I was saying,” Tony says, and gives them a winning smile. “Come on, I know you can’t get drunk anymore, Cap, but it’s worth a shot, so to speak, and anyway, you won’t have a hangover. You,” he adds to Barnes, “I don’t know about for sure but let’s call it an experiment. An experiment!” he concludes. “Science! Verification you are in fact the second of the Supersober Wonder Twins.”

“Actually I could go for this,” Barnes says to Steve, kind of grinning.

“Whoa, wait,” Steve says, taken aback. “Dr. Cora said until you’re, uh, stabilized, you should -- ”

“Yeah, but I am almost basically me,” Barnes points out.

“But what if something...” Steve makes a face at him as he shrugs. “You’re not listening to me.”

“I may not remember a lot about our last campaign, but I remember that we treated each day like it was our last, including having a brew or six,” Barnes tells him, and holds his eye contact for a moment before smiling.

Tony glances over at Bruce, who shrugs at him, then fires him a grin when Cap says, “Fine. Fine, we’ll be there. Where are you getting the liquor? They don’t have any on base. Do they?” he asks, startled, at Barnes’s laugh.

“You are so naive for a captain,” Barnes says dryly (and yeah, after all those looks, including this one, Tony knows he wasn’t wrong about them).

"Whatever,” Steve concludes. “You go… find a bathtub full of gin or something, I have to work out some last-minute strategy with Fury.”

“How is this last minute? It’s like twelve hours away,” Tony points out, as Steve claps Barnes on the shoulder and wanders away. “He’s such an overachiever. Teacher’s pet. Am I right?”

“Ha, you have no idea,” Barnes says, with an easier grin than he’s ever seen on his face outside of photos. “You need any help acquiring the booze?”

“Well we’re in Turkey, so that might pose a problem,” Bruce starts wryly.

“JARVIS, give me liquor stores in a twenty-mile radius,” Tony says.

“There are three, sir.” Tony listens to the addresses, only half-hearing anything else.

“I can’t believe what a damn showoff this guy is,” Barnes says to Rhodey. “Does he ever turn it off?”

“He sleeps,” Rhodey concedes.

“Charm like this can’t just be turned off,” Tony says, in offhanded answer to Barnes, and flips through a few websites on his phone’s browser. “Got it. Who’s driving?”

Barnes shakes his head with an amiably incredulous laugh, and nods at Tony’s phone. “The twenty-first century,” he says. “I thought your dad was full of shit.”

“He was,” Tony says blithely. “I never did get that flying car. Shall we?”

(He just imagines that Barnes smirks at him. It’s wishful thinking or something. Goddamn, has it been forever since he’s been laid.)

  
\--

 

There’s a sweet spot between drunk and really drunk, where you’re drunk enough to forget what your problems are but not drunk enough to totally forget them, do a Mel Gibson, and potentially need your stomach pumped. It turns out that while Cap still can’t get drunk and Bruce is weirdly hesitant to even try, he and Rhodey aren’t alone in celebration, because Bucky Barnes knows how to party. It’s hard for Tony to tell whether or not this is actual drunken bonding that’s happening or if Bucky’s just eager to relive World War II brewfests and Tony’s the only one willing to play ball.

“How,” Bucky says, pointing the lip of his beer bottle at him, “are you a New Yorker without opinions on baseball?”

“Because he doesn’t have opinions on things that don’t involve him,” Rhodey says, cheerfully dry. “It might be annoying but at least it means he doesn’t argue everything possible to death.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s because the Yankees jumped the shark like fifteen years ago,” Tony argues, and Steve outright laughs at the look on Bucky’s face.

“The Yankees?” Bucky repeats slowly.

Tony sighs. “The Yankees. Look, the Dodgers aren’t an option anymore and the Mets, seriously -- ”

“What do sharks have to do with anything?” Bucky persists, and glances to Rhodey, gesturing for another beer.

“It’s a phrase. Look, baseball is not a big thing anymore,” Tony starts.

“Speak for yourself,” Rhodey says. “I love me some baseball.”

“That’s because you’re boring,” Tony informs him.

“I will punch you,” Bucky says, with a wry grin and a flicker of interest.

“Wouldn’t be fair. At least let me put on my digs,” Tony returns. “You’re all supersoldier or something. Wouldn’t be even.”

“Yeah, or something,” Bucky says freely, and drinks. “Would love to see how you fight without the robot thing’s help.”

“It doesn’t really help me besides being metal and having jets on my feet and blasters in my hands. But yeah, suit off, not as impressive,” Tony allows.

“It’s actually sort of embarrassing to watch,” Rhodey interjects.

“It is not,” Tony protests.

Rhodey looks at him plainly. “You rely almost entirely on gadgets.”

“So does Batman,” Bruce chimes in. “As long as they work.”

“Which they do,” Tony says, cheerily. “Glad we cleared that up.”

“You should spar, though,” Bucky says, fluently dismissing the conversation in favor of his point. “Get used to it. You’re a decent fighter but I could show you some things.”

Tony raises his eyebrows. “Like what exactly?”

“You have weak spots,” Steve agrees.

“Everyone has weak spots. Achilles had weak spots,” Tony says.

“Oh, no, not the classics,” Bruce deadpans, still nursing his first drink. “Cool down, let’s not get defensive. Or offensive. It’s worth a shot, right, Stark? Call it a preliminary assessment.”

“Fine. Only one of you at a time at first, I’m not into Cold War reenactments.” Tony puts his hands up. “Who wants to take me first?”

“He does,” Steve says instantly, and Bucky elbows him. “I do,” he confirms.

“Looking forward to hearing your, uh, input. Anyone want to play beer pong?” Tony suggests, without missing a beat.

“No idea what that is but I’m in,” Bucky says, raising his hand. Steve sighs.

“Hardly fair. You’re not getting drunk,” Bruce points out.

“I’m not?” Bucky returns, and gathers up the empty beer bottles. “Supposed to ‘recycle’ or whatever. One second. Don’t start without me.”

“Wouldn’t dare,” Steve says dryly, and glances across the table at Tony. Once Bucky’s gone, he says, “We’ll discuss general improvements for you. ‘Course Bucky jumped the gun."

“I hear that’s kind of what he did for a living, yeah,” Tony deadpans.

“Not cool,” Rhodey informs him. “Especially coming from a former arms merchant.”

“That’s exactly why I can make jokes like that. Besides you and Cap we’ve all kind of been assholes,” Tony says, then adds to Bruce, “None taken. Mostly I mean the other guy.”

“Gotcha,” Bruce says, giving him a thumbs up.

“I’m insulted,” Thor calls from down the corridor, and Tony grimaces before he appears in the doorway. “You have a midnight revel before a battle and don’t invite me?”

“Yeah, I thought you’d drink us all so stupid we’d throw up on Loki tomorrow, honestly,” Tony admits. “Vikings and all.”

“I am not a Viking,” Thor tells him, for maybe the thousandth time.

“Well in principle,” Tony says. “You know I’m right.”

Thor sits down next to Steve anyway. “I’m capable of restraint.”

“Then show it,” Rhodey says, grinning as he hands Thor a beer. “This guy. I love this guy.”

“You don’t get to take my best friend,” Tony informs Thor, painfully deadpan.

“I had no intention,” Thor assures him, and drinks, looking at the bottle afterward with astonishment. “This is like water.”

“Hey, first off, this is the best shit money can buy here,” Tony says. “Also, we’re in a place that doesn’t really like booze, so take what you can get.”

Thor is briefly aghast. “They do not...”

“Well, some of them drink,” Bruce allows. “But the prominent religion around here frowns upon it.”

“Weird talking religion with a god having a beer with you,” Tony muses.

“You are definitely drunk,” Bruce tells him.

“That’s because I’m actually drinking and not just holding a glass of water like Jon Hamm on the set of Mad Men,” Tony says. “By the way, that guy’s a dick. Practically literally, he goes commando all the time, and his dick is – ”

He’s gesturing appropriately when Bucky comes back in, looking far too amused and pleased at the conversation turn. “Go on,” he prompts Tony, who has only slightly hesitated.

“Huge,” Tony finishes. “No doubt in my mind. Or anyone else’s. Never met a guy so willing to show it off.”

“At least he has the decency to show off the real deal,” Rhodey deadpans. “You know, not with cars, or inventions, or – ”

“Watch it, Knockoff, I’ll punch you back to Taiwan,” Tony returns, grinning.

“I’m terrified,” Rhodey informs him.

“Right. Uh. Barton and Romanov are looking for you,” Bucky tells Thor, who sits up straight. “It’s your, uh. Girl. The.” He looks at Thor again and clearly rethinks what he was going to say. “The scientist? And some weird girl with glasses.”

“Jane,” Thor cuts him off, grabs a second and a third bottle of beer, and goes. Tony mouths indignantly but doesn’t get his words out in time. “That… those… were my beers,” he complains.

“Are we just going to sit here and drink?” Bucky asks, still standing, sort of pacing. Steve just nurses his soda, watches him, and says nothing, giving nothing away but a raise of his eyebrows. “Because as much fun as it is to – talk shit and reminisce about things half of us don’t know about or remember...”

“What are you suggesting?” Bruce finally cuts in.

“A warm-up,” Steve says, and his eyebrows raise when Bucky glances at him briefly. “We used to have punching bags. Or I did, anyway. Guess SHIELD thought it was too much to haul. We get bored.”

“How is this a warm-up, we’re both drinking, and – I’m not a punching bag,” Tony belatedly notes in vague annoyance, as Rhodey snickers. “I’m not!”

“Prove it,” Bucky says, his eyes shining with something dangerous and deadly and damn well enticing... and Tony’s never been one to shy from a challenge.

“Done,” he says, standing, and shakes Bucky’s hand, sizing him up calmly while Barnes does the same. “Where?”

“I would suggest not here,” Bruce speaks up. “If you get your ass handed to you, it might make, uh, a mess. In the mess.”

“I’m not going to get my ass handed to me. I’m going to get my ass graciously returned to me,” Tony tells Bruce, and glances at Bucky. “Well?" 

“Follow me,” Bucky says, in complete self-satisfaction for reasons Tony can't put his finger on. When he looks back at Rhodey, the man's just grinning, so he follows.

 

\--

 

They’re walking down a hallway that, if Tony remembers the schematics correctly, will reach the makeshift hangar, which is kind of a good choice but makes him a little nervous about that metal arm that could crush the nose of a plane, not to even mention him. “Hey, Barnes. Maybe we should tie that arm behind your back. Or I get half a suit or something.”

Bucky doesn’t answer, which is unnerving, but he keeps on. “I’m serious, I’m a little worried you’re gonna squash me like a bug. Fury would be really pissed, so probably don’t.”

Bucky continues not answering, and that’s when Tony gets concerned. “Hey, Barnes. You drunk on me?” It really doesn’t look like it; he’s at full military attention, his hair in his face, the loose ponytail splayed across his shoulder. “Barnes,” he checks, and dares touch his shoulder.

That’s right about when he finally gets whacked with the metal arm, like he’s been anticipating since he drove the guy over here in the first place, and it hurts just as much as he would have thought. At first, he’s wheezing too hard to really realize how much it hurts, but then air rushes into his lungs and it hurts like fucking hell. “Barnes,” he coughs, and is hauled up to his feet by the shirt.

What he sees actually startles him silent for a second. Bucky isn’t home. There’s something else in there, something dead-eyed, broken, and determined to smash him into little bite-sized Tony Stark pieces. This is what he was; _the Winter Soldier_ , Natasha had murmured to him; this is what he is again. “Oh, fuck. Fuck. Bucky! Bucky, Bucky Barnes, you have to – ”

He’s slightly distracted by Bucky hauling him back and putting him into a chokehold with the cold metal arm, and, he realizes, this is the way Iron Man dies; for once, he was not too cynical to give up on someone.

Just about when he realizes there’s no way he’s getting out, he touches his ear and chokes out JARVIS’s name. The world is slipping into darkness, and he’s definitely going to pass out (or worse) when the arm choking the life out of him goes limp. He hits the ground, and there’s sweet sweet air, relief, and even more pain. “Fuck,” he’s coughing, and anticipating another hit before he’s even sure he can think anymore.

“I can’t,” Bucky's saying, in a genuinely confused way, like a startled child -- or someone who's talking in their sleep and is just about to wake up from a hell of a dream. Tony looks up. Barnes can’t get the arm to move. _JARVIS shut it down._ Good move. “Why can’t I – ”

“You have to let me fix it,” Tony says, as steadily as he can make himself, and gets to his feet. “I can make your arm better. Bucky,” he tries. “Let’s go talk to Steve.”

“I can’t – ” Tony wonders if he’s going to get hit again, but Bucky groans. “I remember. Him. You. Why..”

“Because you’re getting better,” Tony presses; this seems to be going well, actually. As well as an attempted strangulation and return of brainwashing can go. “And you jumped, to get away from them. You broke their hold on you and you jumped, you risked it all, and now you’re back, with people who actually give a shit about you and won’t use you as a weapon.”

Bucky looks at him for a long moment, and it’s like a cloud passes through his eyes. “Where’s Steve?” he asks.

“This way,” Tony says quickly, and leads the way back, only to run into the group coming the same way back from the mess. “Hi! Uh. Winter Soldier and I are going to the med bay. Hopefully he doesn’t beat my ass down again on the way there.“

“What?” Steve goes to Bucky immediately, touches his face, and pulls his gaze up to him. “Bucky. Bucky, man. Are you there? Come back.”

“It’s – it’s not working,” Bucky insists, and holds onto Steve.

“It will,” Steve says firmly. “Come on. Come with me.” He leads Bucky away, and Tony exhales.

“Man,” Rhodey says plainly, “you chose the wrong guy to flirt with today.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Tony says, offhand, “but even if I did, this isn’t on me. He drank like four beers.”

“And whose idea was the beers?” Bruce asks him, but not unkindly. “It hasn’t been long. He got into the mindset, probably. Couldn’t lock it down in time.”

Well, Bruce would know, Tony figures. “It’s fine. I’ll wait. Sober up. Wait on the med bay until Barnes is cooled off some.”

“Bunk it is,” Rhodey says, and claps Tony on the shoulder. “Hid the booze away. We should be good for a victory party when we get back.”

“Dude,” Tony says, warning. “Jinx.”

Bruce is the only one who laughs, but at least someone gets it.

 

\--

 

At 0700, it’s time to go to war. Around half past 0600, Tony is awake, all patched up from what could charitably be called a “brawl” with Bucky the previous night, and pretty much free of a hangover. Everyone else is suited up, and he’s climbing into the newest model not in repairs when someone’s behind him, and he kind of jumps, but he already knows who it is.

“I wanted to apologize,” Bucky says.

“Yeah, well. We were probably pushing you too hard anyway,” Tony says, doing his best to keep it light.

"I know. But I – it gets to me. Knowing that all of that’s still... part of me. Probably always will be. That I could just turn on people like that. I’m sorry that it – that I let it out on you.”

Yeah, Tony doesn’t want to turn around. Or go in the suit. Or do anything. Christ, it’s too early for emotions and shit. He pretends to be doing something, anything, so he doesn’t have to look Bucky and his probably big guilty eyes in the face. “Didn’t hold it against you. Now we know, right? Booze plus supersoldier plus brainwashing plus cybernetic arm equals...”

“What are you doing?” Bucky persists, approaching him from the side to observe his pointless tinkering.

Tony sighs, and looks at him. “Okay, yeah. Look, it’s not that big a deal. Most people want to kill me when they meet me, but they don’t get as good a chance as that.”

“You think you’re an asshole,” Bucky tells him, now close enough to touch. “But you’re a hero. Just like the rest of them.”

“The rest of _us_ ,” Tony returns instantly, firmly. “And don’t forget it.”

“I haven’t earned that,” Bucky protests. “Not yet. Not after – ”

“Tell that to the hordes of fanboys collecting Howling Commandos cards and reading about you in history book blurbs,” Tony says. “And the people across Europe – the world – whose lives you saved by battling Hydra. And that’s what today is – finishing what you started. It doesn’t matter what you did, it matters what you do.”

It’s actually a pretty good speech, especially considering he didn’t plan any of it. Bucky looks at him, a little stunned, then closes the distance between them and kisses Tony, with such force and... gratitude? that it forces him back a step. He wants this, god, so bad, he kisses the crazy son of a bitch back, and within a second, to his surprise, he’s making out with Bucky Barnes, and for a guy from the ‘40s he knows how to turn a guy on, _shit_. “Aah,” Tony starts, then edges away from Bucky, “agh, not that I’m not enjoying this, just, suiting up, briefing – ”

Bucky’s expression is impossible to explain, and every time Tony tries to comprehend it he sees something different; he’s pleased, he’s worried, he’s sad, he’s excited. That seems like a lot for one person to feel, especially if it’s anything like the amazing wrenching in his gut. “Don’t die out there,” Bucky says. “I was just starting to like you.”

Tony doesn’t plan on grinning, but he kind of does, and Bucky just smirks, leaving Tony to breathe and think and prepare for the battle ahead.

For Pepper, for Rhodey, for the past and their future; for the Avengers, SHIELD, Loki, and all that’s come together until this point; for today, the next day, and all the possibilities ahead. For New York, for the world, for Coulson and all the others dead in the line of duty or innocent victims of circumstance. Tony has a lot to fight for, but it isn’t too much, not with the future shining bright ahead of him.

He suits up.

 

\--

 

_Epilogue_

 

They win the war.

As the cliche says, that’s the easy part.

So, with all the times Tony’s been blown up or blown things up or flown blowing-up things into interdimensional portals, he and Pepper said it was kind of a thing. Strictly speaking, not an exclusive thing. Mostly. This means that despite everything anyone might have heard about him, Tony restrains himself from sex, even in the lingering time that he and Bucky are still on base. Once back in New York it’s even more difficult but he makes excuses and backs off and finally just tells him the truth.

“Don’t know much about 2012,” Bucky says, leaning against the kitchen counter casually. “Is that gonna work?”

“It could,” Tony says, slowly, and grimaces. “But it could be awkward.”

“Is it somehow more awkward than kissing the guy who you tried to kill accidentally, because otherwise I’m not feeling all that bad for you,” Bucky confesses.

“You were eyeing me up like a piece of meat the entire time you were awake,” Tony says blithely. “It wasn’t a surprise.”

“I didn’t want it to be,” Bucky says, and there’s that damn look in his eyes again. Hell. “So, are you going to talk to her?”

“God, yes,” he swears, only breaking eye contact to look at his phone. “We still on for the gym?” he asks, offhand.

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky says, all self-satisfied, and Tony does what he can to focus on the text he’s sending.

 

\--

 

“Hey, I’m not saying I’m not into it,” Pepper says, raising her hands in defense, “what I’m saying is you two have to work out your... thing, and then we can talk about other things.”

“’Other things’?” Tony echoes, then he belatedly hears what she was saying before. “You’re... not against this,” he checks.

She gives him a plain look. “I signed on for Tony Stark,” she says. “A long time ago. The _longest_ possible time ago, before we even – anyway, I know it’s not ever going to be normal or simple with you. And the wartime thing happens. Foxholes. Et cetera.”

“I know,” Tony says, but this seems too easy. “I know that I’m me and of course it’s going to be complicated. I just, I don’t want you to think that I’m...”

“What, suddenly gay?” Pepper asks, amused.

“No,” Tony says, defensive.

“Because I always knew you were bisexual,” she says. “It’s part of why you can’t turn it off. There’s always someone.”

“That’s not how it works. It’s not,” he protests. “I don’t flirt with everyone. I don’t flirt with Happy.”

“Oh, don’t even bring him into this,” Pepper says, grinning. “Where is he?”

“He’s...” Tony gestures vaguely. “Out there. Living room. Probably hearing half of this. Uh, we’re going to the gym. The Avengers Tower gym, pretty sure they have no equipment for metal-armed guys in Planet Fitness. Why?” he asks warily.

“Because I’d like to meet your new boyfriend,” Pepper says, and that little smile of hers might as well be a matchmaker’s satisfied grin. “Just don’t make me jealous.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes,” he acknowledges. “Come on. We’re not doing labels, either,” he adds to Pepper, as they go.

“Breaking news, Tony Stark defies labels,” she says, her tone fatally dry.

He makes a face at her, and then she and Bucky see each other. For one split-second he worries it’s all going to go to hell, but then Pepper is smiling and Bucky is grinning and she approaches him to shake his hand. “Pepper Potts,” she says. “I’ve read all about you. Do you know there’s an authorized biography that says – ”

“Authorized? Who the hell authorized it?” Bucky says, laughing. “What’s it say?”

“That you have great taste in men,” Pepper says wryly. “Not sure what happened here, though.” She nods at Tony.

“An astounding lapse in judgment, even from an amnesiac,” Bucky explains. “I like her,” he adds to Tony. 

“Great,” Tony realizes. “You _like_ each other.”

Pepper waggles her eyebrows at him, and he presses his face into his hands. 

It isn’t easy getting everything you didn’t know you wanted, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t exactly what you need.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued, someday, with a Bucky POV and others...


End file.
